


Fire in the Wind

by bittenfeld



Category: Bonanza
Genre: Beating, Brutality, Fights, Gen, Male rape, Rape, family love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In brutal horseplay, the two sons of a neighboring rancher beat and rape Little Joe.  Living with the hellish aftermath, Joe was determined not to tell the family, causing a huge fight at home.  So Joe decides it’s time to leave the Ponderosa.</p><p>Final – Chapter 5:  Gingerly he tested his grip:  the fingers were too weak, too stiff.  He’d just have to pray real hard that his life wouldn’t depend on his fast draw for the next few days.  That had been a stupid thing to do – smashing his fists on Adam’s thick skull.  He’d probably hurt his hands more than Adam’s face.  Well, at least he’d put a dent in Adam’s love-life.  Big brother wouldn’t be kissing anybody for awhile at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine the actor Royal Dano as Joshua Crowley

Joe Cartwright ignored the two boys calmly positioning themselves behind him. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t start any trouble if they didn’t.

The dim interior of the log cabin offered little relief from the blistering July hell outside. Even though the sun had long since passed its zenith and was almost behind the sawtooth ridge of the Sierras now, the air still wouldn’t start cooling off for another hour or so.

His sweat-soaked shirt clung sticky and wet to his back. A trickle of sweat dribbled down the side of his face, tickled in his sideburn like a crawling bug. He wiped it away with an impatient finger.

It was too hot for trouble right now – in fact, it was really too hot even for talking. He wished he was back home relaxing in an ice-cold tub with an ice-cold beer.

Well, he’d be there in a couple of hours, after everything was said here that had to be said.

Joshua Crowley sat behind the scarred oak desk, arms folded across his chest. A shock of iron-grey hair fell over his forehead, a sheen of sweat glistened on his thin face. His watery gaze studied the pale eyes of the young man leaning belligerently on the desk, ran down the short but sturdy frame, then met the angry expression again. A negligent smile turned a corner of the older man’s mouth. “Now, what makes you say we busted your fence, boy?”

Joe didn’t smile. “Nothing – except those hundred Crowley steers at our watering hole, and two sections of fence down.”

“Well, thirsty steers are mighty desperate critters. Maybe they broke through by themselves.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see how yours could be so thirsty, seein’ as how you already dammed up that north pasture creek.”

Crowley just shrugged, but his keen eyes lingered on Joe. “Why, that little creek’s almost dried up anyway. The Ponderosa shouldn’t even miss it. But if your pa has something to say about it, he can send a man next time, instead of a little wet-nosed whelp.”

“Mr. Crowley,” Joe fought to hold his temper, “we’re not discussing my age. We’re talking about water.”

“Well, the Ponderosa has the most water for miles around. In fact, it seems to me your pa oughtta be willin’ to share a little of it with a neighbor, times of drought like this.”

Joe’s face tightened. “You know my pa’s willin’ to share the water, Mr. Crowley. He’s just not willin’ to let you or any other… neighbor… move in on Ponderosa land. And he made you a decent offer. It’s not his fault you turned him down because you want to see war between us.”

At that, Crowley sat up straight. “You watch your mouth, boy! Your pa send you over here to make trouble?”

“No, I came by myself. And I didn’t come to make trouble. I came because I had this stupid idea that even though you wouldn’t listen to my pa, maybe I could say something that would make you change your mind.”

The older man pushed himself to his feet, and matched Joe’s glare. “Well you’ve had your say. Now get the hell outta here, Little Joe Cartwright. Go home to your pa and have him wipe your nose.”

Joe straightened. “Y’know, Mr. Crowley, I always thought you were a reasonable man, even if not a very friendly one. Well, I guess I was wrong.”

“Get out, you little whelp.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Crowley.”

As Joe pushed his way between the two boys, he felt a tug at his holster. He clamped a hand down, but Nat Crowley already had the ivory-butted pistol in his hands.

Joe reached out. “All right, give it back.”

“Give what back, boy?”

Joe grabbed for the pistol. At the same moment, Austin Crowley grabbed him around the chest, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Get out of the house!” Josh Crowley called. “Get out of the house if you’re gonna fight!”

“Sure, Pa,” Austin grinned, and swung Joe bodily out the door and onto the front porch. A blast of hot summer air hit them.

Joe squirmed in the man’s grip, then stomped a boot heel down onto an unprotected instep. Austin howled, and Joe jerked free. Grabbing the man’s shirt-front, Joe slammed a straight punch right to the chin, and felt the satisfying jar in his arm of the blow striking home. Clumsily Austin dropped onto his seat.

Out of the corer of his eye, Joe saw Nat raise the pistol barrel. Joe twisted, knocking Nat’s arm aside, then smashed a solid fist into Nat’s face, following through with a good punch to the man’s stomach. Nat grunted and stumbled back.

From behind, Austin landed a savage blow to Joe’s right kidney, staggering him, then squeezed him again in another bear-hug. They tumbled off-balance to the edge of the porch, then rolled off the two-foot drop with a thump to the hardpan below. Hot dust billowed up.

Joe’s wind shot out of him. For a frightening minute his lungs wouldn’t work. Pain throbbed from his bruised kidney, pulsed inside his pounding head.

Still holding his middle with one arm, Nat staggered over to Joe, and swung a vicious boot-toe to catch Joe in the belly. Desperately Joe twisted his body. He missed the full force of the kick, but it slammed into his hip instead, and a knifing pain stabbed his leg, breaking a cry from his throat.

Grabbing two fistfuls of Joe’s shirt, Nat hauled him to his feet, then tried to knee him in the groin, but Joe blocked with his leg. Nat released one side of Joe’s shirt to swing a fist at his unprotected face; Joe parried the blow, then shot a punch straight to Nat’s stomach.

With a sick grunt, Nat doubled over, mouth open, eyes glazed over. Another crack on the chin crumpled him to the ground.

Joe stepped back, panting hard. He shifted his weight off the leg he’d been kicked in. Sweat steamed off his body. With the back of a hand, he wiped the perspiration out of his eyes. He’d had just about enough for one day – besides the sun was almost down, and it was time to get back home for supper. He took a faltering step toward his pistol lying in the dirt.

A boot kicked him in the tailbone. Pain exploded up his spine, and he sprawled forward onto the ground. The impact of the hardpan stung his palms, jarred his brain loose. He tried to spit out a mouthful of grit and dust, but he couldn't move a muscle. A boot dug into his side, tumbling him over onto his back.

How long he lay in the dust stunned, he didn’t know, but when he finally came to with a tight moan, Nat and Austin were standing over him. Helplessly he squinted up at the pair. Blood oozed down Nat’s upper lip from his left nostril. They were both swaying a little from exertion, and their faces were ugly.

Joe tried to crawl to his feet. The painful stiffness in his hip made him absurdly clumsy. He had made it to his knees, when something cracked him over the head. A thunderclap of agony exploded inside his head, and he pitched forward into the dirt again. He wondered if his skull was still intact. Desperately he fought to keep from fainting.

He tried to swing a fist, but his arm was grabbed and he was jerked to his feet. Pain zagged through his injured hip, and the leg buckled under him. Then his other arm was grabbed, and again he was hoisted up and held back against Austin’s body.

Nat stood in front of him. Joe writhed and wriggled against Austin’s tight grip, until a fist in the gut interrupted him brutally. All his air rushed out in a grunt, and sickly he doubled over Nat’s arm.

Grabbing a fistful of hair, Nat tugged Joe’s head up and set him up for a crack off the jaw that knocked him back into Austin. Then before Joe could set himself, Nat socked him in the belly again. Abruptly Joe humped over, and almost vomited.

A wide back-fisted blow swung across Joe’s jaw. Joe’s head snapped back limply. He gulped for air.

Another punch straight to the gut. He retched, breathless. A second to the ribs. A third to the chin. Stars exploded behind his eyes.

He heard their voices.

“Get his gun,” Austin was saying. “Little Joe Cartwright wants his gun back. Give it to him.” And he locked Joe’s arms, held him hard. Feebly Joes tried to resist, despite the stabbing pains lancing every muscle in his body. He thought he was going to pass out.

Austin took the bother to jerk his knee sharply into Joe’s bruised tailbone. Joe grunted, sagged.

He wondered where Josh Crowley was right now. He wondered if the old man even gave a damn what his boys were doing to Little Joe Cartwright.

He looked up dully. Nat stood in front of him, Joe’s white-butted **.** 44 in hand, raised high above their heads. Then the barrel was slicing down, and Joe cringed in anticipation. It caught him on the side of the face. The steel sight gashed his temple from brow to hairline. A flash of light blinded him, as a moan escaped his lips.

Then again, the other side. Pain. Joe’s head rocked back limply. A trickle of blood crawled down his cheek.

Then again, across the jaw. He flinched. His head was one big throbbing agony. He let it loll forward, drunkenly. Blood pounded between his ears. Desperately he dragged air, but every breath stabbed his aching ribs and heart.

Again, across the face. His brain reeled. He licked his cut lips with a dry tongue. Iron and blood.

Again, then again. One side, then the other. Like a leaden weight, it snapped his head back and forth, ripped the skin over his cheekbone.

Finally Nat dropped his arm and tossed the revolver back onto the ground. “I got somethin’ better in mind,” was all he said. An ugly grin twisted the man’s face. Then taking either side of Joe’s collar, he ripped open the boy’s shirt with one strong jerked that popped off buttons.

Joe gasped, tried weakly to struggle in Austin’s grip.

“Get him in the barn,” Nat said. “We got a little surprise for Mr. Cartwright here.”

Joe squirmed. He didn’t want to find out what their surprise was.

Then suddenly, somehow, Austin lost his grasp on Joe’s arms, and Joe found himself free. But he managed only one or two wobbly steps before falling to his knees, where he stayed hunched over deeply, heaving for all he was worth, arms pressed tightly to his belly.

Austin chuckled.

Then Joe felt them grab his arms again and drag him. Still he tried to resist, ram an elbow back, stomp on a foot, until a knee between the legs interrupted him. And suddenly he didn’t resist anymore.

It was so hot.

* * * * *

_to be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ ‘Scuse me, Mr. Crowley,” Hoss interrupted, “but if Little Joe just came and went, then how come that’s his pistol lyin’ on that table over there?”  
> The ivory-butted pistol, gold-embossed on the grip with the Ponderosa pine-tree brand, lay in full view on a small table near the door. The muzzle and sight were crusted with dried blood.

Reining up beside his brother, Hoss Cartwright wiped the back of his neck with his bandanna. “Ngh,” he grunted. “Our little brother sure did pick the goldurndest hottest day of the year to run away from home. Why couldn’t he wait ‘til fall or winter, or somethin’? Why, y’know, we could be home right now with a nice cold beer, just sittin’ indoors where it’s dark… and cool…”

“Ah, c’mon,” the older brother coaxed, “stop talkin’ about it. You’re just makin’ it worse.” Adam Cartwright squinted across the sandy arroyo, a hand shielding his eyes from the noon-time glare.

“See anything?” the bigger man inquired, scanning the brush-dotted hills.

“Nah.” Slipping his Stetson off, Adam wiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead. It didn’t do any good. His forearm was just as wet as his face. “Joe wouldn’t have come this way, any­way. ‘Sides, it’s hotter’n hell.”

“Hey, now you’re startin’ it, big brother.” Hoss nudged an elbow toward the other man. “Hey, y’know, somethin’ – I’ll just bet, while we’re out here sweatin’, Little Joe’s probably already back home with that cold beer, just laughin’ at us poor fools.”

Adam grinned.   “Probably.” Again he squinted across the landscape. “Doggone, it’s just not like our little brother not to come home all night.”

“Hey, remember, Adam,” Hoss reminded, “our little brother’s not so little anymore. Why, he’s all of eighteen now.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Adam's teasing glance caught his brother’s. “And come to think of it, ever since he met that, uh… what’s her name?”

“Miss Laurie Parkhill.”

“Miss Laurie Parkhill, that’s right.” Adam allowed a tiny smile to play at the corner of his mouth. “Well, ever since he met Miss Laurie Parkhill, his evenings have all been pretty busy, haven’t they?”

“Yeah.” A conniving wink flashed across Hoss’ face. “Say, how much you wanna bet that Pa will find him over at the Parkhills’ place? Maybe he just spent the, uh, whole evening with Miss Parkhill.”

Adam watched his brother through lazy eyes. “If Joe just spent the whole evening with Miss Parkhill, Mrs. Parkhill will be after his hide.”

Hoss grinned in anticipation. “So will Pa.”

Adam grinned in delight.

Then with a sudden change of thought, Adam glanced over at his brother. “Hey. Y’know, there’s only one place we still haven’t checked.”

“The Crowleys?”

“Uh huh.”

“You think he’d go over there after Pa told us not to?”

“Has that ever stopped our little brother?”

“No.”

“Well, why don’t we just pay ‘em a visit then, brother?”

“Why don’t we do just that, brother?”  
* * * * *

Joshua Crowley glared from the other side of the doorway. “What do you Cartwrights want now? Can’t you leave a body in peace?”

Adam and Hoss stood on the porch. “Mr. Crowley,” Adam said, holding on to his patience, “we’re just looking for our brother. Just wondered if you’ve seen him.”

The old man eyed him up and down. “Maybe I have and maybe I haven’t.” He started to close the door.

But Adam’s straight arm stopped it. “Mr. Crowley, we’re not looking for trouble.”

“That’s what your brother said, too.” Crowley grunted. “Yeah, he was here yesterday, shootin’ off at the mouth about me ‘n’ the boys tryin’ to move in on the Ponderosa, tryin’ to start a war or somethin’. Well, I told him the same thing I’m tellin’ you: get off my land, Cartwright.”

“Mr. Crowley.” Adam was trying to remain calm. “What time yesterday?”

“ ‘Bout suppertime. He just came and went. Didn’t stay more’n five minutes.”

“ ‘Scuse me, Mr. Crowley,” Hoss interrupted, “but if Little Joe just came and went, then how come that’s his pistol lyin’ on that table over there?”

The ivory-butted pistol, gold-embossed on the grip with the Ponderosa pine-tree brand, lay in full view on a small table near the door.

For a moment, curiosity registered on the old man’s face.

Nat Crowley strolled out of the shadows across the room. “Your brother must’a left it here yesterday,” he grinned, “… by mistake.”

Adam observed the newcomer’s bruised face, swollen jaw; noticed the bandage wrapping the man’s right hand. “ ‘By mistake,’…” he echoed.

“That’s what my boy said,” Crowley snapped, and thrust the weapon toward Adam. “Now, take it and get outta here. I don’t know where your brother is, and I don’t give a damn!”

Adam touched a finger to his hat brim. “Well, thanks anyway, Mr. Crowley. You’ve been a big help.” Then he and Hoss turned and stepped down off the porch to their horses tied at the hitch­ing rail.

“Cartwright!” Crowley called to the departing pair. “You tell your pa I don’t want to see any blood shed. But the Ponderosa better stay on its side of the fence from now on!”

Hoss swung into the saddle, and tugged his horse around. “We’ll tell him, Mr. Crowley.”

Crowley watched them ride off, then slammed the door. In anger, he snapped at the boy who lay sprawled on the couch. “Dammit, what did you two do to Joe Cartwright yesterday?”

“I dunno, Pa,” Nat protested. “We didn’t do nothin’ to him – ‘cept have a little fun. That’s all.”

Josh Crowley pulled a curtain aside to watch the receding dust cloud of the Cartwrights’ horses. “Damn, I don’t want to start a war with the Ponderosa!”

“Pa,” the younger Crowley reminded soberly, “you started a war with the Ponderosa when you dammed up the north pasture creek last week.”  
* * * * *

Just out of sight from the house, Adam pulled up short. Leaning a hand behind on the sad­dle’s cantle, he shot a glance back toward the cabin. “You think he’s telling the truth?” he commen­ted to his brother.

“I dunno.” Hoss squinted back in the same direction. “That Nat sure knows more’n he’s tellin’.”

“Yeah. Y’know, I think we better have another look around – whadd’ya say?”

“I’m with you, brother.” And reining his mount off the trail into the brush, the big man nudged the bay gelding in the ribs. “C’mon, Chub, let’s go.”  
* * * * *

The concerned father hovered anxiously behind Dr. Martin’s shoulder as the physician sat on Joe’s bed, cleaning the boy’s swollen face. When the doctor swabbed a bloody welt on his cheek­bone, Joe winced and jerked his head away sharply.

“Hold still, boy,” the bespectacled man ordered, laying a hand on top of the boy’s head. Again he dabbed at the ugly gash.

With a comforting hand, Ben Cartwright squeezed his son’s bare shoulder. Joe just frowned sullenly and squirmed away.

Dr. Martin pulled him back again. “I said hold still.”

Joe released an impatient breath.

His face was a discolored mass of bruises and welts and swellings. His right eye was closed, his left cheek welted and swollen and splotched with purple. A bad slice through his left eyebrow still oozed a little blood, and his lips were cut and puffy. And it all hurt.

It hurt when he moved the leg he’d been kicked in; it hurt with he drew a breath against the tight rib-bindings; it hurt when he worked his stiff bandaged hands. It hurt when he just lay there and did nothing.

The doctor’s cool efficient prodding and probing irritated him; the fading daylight that seeped behind the edges of the drawn curtains hurt his one open eye. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t ache, and right now he just wanted to be left alone.

Besides, it was so goddamn hot.

Firmly Dr. Martin wound a cloth around Joe’s head from crown to jaw, cross-wise of the one that bound the top of the boy’s head, then began collecting his instruments and gathering up the dirty bandages and dressings scattered on Joe’s bed.

“Doctor,” Ben spoke up, “is there anything I can do?”

The doctor closed his black leather bag. “Yes, you can keep a closer eye on those boys of yours. I swear, I spend so much time over here patching up one or another of you Cartwrights, that I’m considering moving my office from town to the Ponderosa.”

Ben straightened the sheet over his son, and stroked the sweaty black curls off the boy’s ban­daged forehead. “Keeping my boys out of trouble is like trying to tame three wildcats.”

“I’m not surprised – seeing who they have for a father.”

“Well, Joseph should know better than to get involved in something like this.”

“Oh, now, c’mon, Ben. You know Little Joe is no worse than Adam or Hoss – or you.”

Downstairs the front door slammed shut, and Hoss’ voice bellowed, “Pa, we’re home!”

“Speak of the devil,” Ben commented, following the doctor out of Joe’s room.

Adam and Hoss were shrugging out of their vests and hats, as Ben and Dr. Martin came downstairs.

“Hi, Pa, Dr. Martin,” Adam greeted. “We, uh, couldn’t find Little Joe, Pa. We’ll just have to try again later.”

“It’s all right, Joe’s here,” Ben interrupted. “The doctor brought him home a little while ago.”

Adam and Hoss exchanged quick glances.

The doctor picked up his hat from the table near the door. “Your brother came to my house about one o’clock this morning. He’d been badly beaten up… and pistol-whipped. I did what I could for him, then just kept an eye on him for the rest of the night.”

A worried frown furrowed Hoss’ brow. “How bad is it, Doc?”

The doctor shrugged. Bad enough to lay him up for a few weeks. He’s got a concussion and some real bad bruises and sprains. I don’t even know how he made it all the way to my house last night. You just make sure he takes it real easy – and don’t expect him to be rounding up cattle for awhile. I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on him.”

Ben walked the doctor to the door. “We'll take good care of him. Thanks for everything, Doc.”

He closed the door behind the doctor, then turned back toward his sons. His face was tight. “Damn. Who in hell would work your brother over like that?”

“The Crowleys,” Hoss announced simply.

“The Crowleys?” Ben glowered at his middle son. “Your brother wouldn’t go to the Crowley place against my orders.”

The big man could only shrug and drop his gaze to the floor. “He did.”

Ben’s glare shifted between his two sons; he released a tight breath. “I thought I told you boys to stay away from there. Now, what’s this all about?”

Adam looked up toward Joe’s room on the balcony. “Well, when we couldn’t find him any­where else, we, uh, decided to stop by the Crowley place as a last resort. And well… Joshua said that Joe had been there yesterday, full of accusations about Crowley moving in on the Ponderosa, and starting a war with us… something like that. Oh, and we, uh, found this over there…” He held out Joe’s pistol. The muzzle and sight were crusted with dried blood.

Ben frowned at the bloody weapon, then swore softly. “Damn! Joe should know better that to antagonize Crowley. I told him – I told all of you – to leave Crowley alone! Damn, I knew this was going to happen.” Sharply he pivoted away from the two other men, in a motion of frustration. “I just didn’t think it would go this far. I guess I didn’t figure Joshua would actually have Joe pistol-whipped.”

“I don’t think he did,” Adam surmised. “I think it was the boys’ doing.”

“Yeah,” Hoss agreed, and added, “Nat was there when we stopped by today, lookin’ mighty pleased with himself. Him an’ Austin, they’re bad ones.”

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In brutal horseplay, the two sons of a neighboring rancher beat Little Joe. Afterwards, Joe is determined not to tell the family or his girl what else they did to him – which only makes matters worse, causing a huge fight between the brothers.
> 
> Adam released a long sigh. “In case it has escaped your attention, little brother, we have a ranch to run. While you’re trying to get in some extra bunk-time, the rest of us are busting our asses out there.” His frown of exasperation suddenly turned into a sweet smile. “Oh, but I forgot. Little brother didn’t get in until two o’clock in the morning. You and Laurie must’ve had a fine time.”  
> Joe sighed impatiently.

She found him by the creek bank, aimlessly tossing a few pebbles into the eddying pools. He was partially hidden in the shade of an old jackpine and the low scrub at the water’s edge. One last ray of the fading sunlight sheened the black waves of his hair, and highlighted the planes of his face.

Another pebble plopped into the white water. He hadn't heard her approach – she knew he was deep in thought.

“Hello, darling,” she greeted quietly, and he spun around as though a rifle had discharged. For a minute he couldn’t see her in the forest shadows, but then she stepped closer and he pushed himself to his feet.

“Laurie, I… I’m sorry…” he stammered an apology, until his voice caught.

She reached out for his hands, squeezed his fingertips. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” she soothed. For a long moment she stared into his eyes, trying to read behind the tension and the pain. Old bruises still marred his face. “Is something wrong, Joe?” she whispered. “Did I hurt you, or offend you somehow? If I did, I certainly didn’t mean to, darling.”

Abruptly he shook his head, then suddenly pressed her hands to his lips; kissed them urgently, caressed them with his lips, his cheeks.

She felt the softness of his touch, then lowered herself to the ground, urging him after her. He dropped to his knees beside her.

Her fingers still stroked his hands. “I thought you were avoiding me… I was worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted. “I’m all right. Everything’s all right.”

“No it’s not, Joe. Something’s wrong.”

His eyes closed, and he settled back against a tree trunk without a word.

“Joe, tell me what’s wrong. Talk to me.”

“I can’t, Laurie.”

“Well, at least tell me if it’s me. If there’s something wrong between us…”

A pain-filled gaze turned toward her. “Oh, no, darling,” he insisted. “It’s got nothing to do with us… I love you, sweetheart.”

She faced him to rest both hands on his shoulders, urged him closer until their lips almost touched. “And I love you too, darling.” Then her mouth pressed against his, moved passionately over his soft lips. He tried to respond; she felt him tremble and hesitate beneath the pressure of her lips.

Her fingers took the sides of his face as he looked down. “Joe, shall I go?”

“No… no, don’t, baby.” Turning his face to kiss the palm of her hand, he squeezed her fingers, then leaned back against the tree again, eyes closed in resignation.

Gently she touched his face, fingertips exploring the faded bruises discoloring his cheeks, his eyes, his lips. A half-healed scar marked the outer corner of his left eye – a little memento left by the steel pistol sight which came within a quarter-inch of blinding him. She kissed it, kissed the long purple splotch on his left cheek, kissed the healing abrasions on his lips. He barely responded.

Her hand fumbled for his belt, tugged him closer, then two fingers hooked over his waistband, worked their way under his shirt to find his warm skin and just rest there. A tiny smile tightened one corner of his mouth, but it wasn't very convincing.  
* * * * *

Hot. Dawn just a red smear in the east, and already the dry breeze that rustled the black mesquite promised to raise a good sweat in an hour to two.

With a sigh somewhere between boredom and unwelcome anticipation, Adam threw back his blanket and reached for his hat which had slipped off his face sometime during the night.

Not a cloud in the sky. Air as clear as a damn bell. One more god-awful blistering hell of a day.

At least Hoss had already made the coffee. Adam hunkered down by the campfire, poured the black liquid into a tin cup, and pulled a sip. Then with an abrupt curse he spat it out, and dashed the cupful to the dirt. The liquid spattered across the dry sand.

Tepid. Barely warm enough to feel. The only thing cool in the whole world, and it had to be the damn morning coffee. He decided to skip breakfast. He just wasn’t in the mood to sit over the fire with cold coffee and supper’s left-over beans.

Movement in the brush behind him. He reached a hand to his pistol butt.

It was Hoss. The big man walked into camp, and squatted beside the campfire next to Adam. The firelight cast long shadows in the blackness.

Adam greeted his brother with a growl. “Damn coffee’s cold as ice.”

“Well, I just put it on not more’n two minutes ago,” Hoss drawled. “Give it time.”

“How long you been up?”

“Couple hours.”

“A couple hours, and you just put the coffee on two minutes ago?”

“Well, I finished the first pot, and I just put this one on.”

“You finished a whole goddamn pot in two hours?”

Hoss stuffed another few sticks into the fire. “Adam, your cussin’ ain’t gonna make it boil any faster, so why don’t you just shut up?”

Impotently Adam shut up, then pushed himself to his feet, and strolled to the edge of camp to scan the perimeters of the clearing. Nothing. Just the mesquite quivering in the morning air, and their two horses grazing nearby. Pa’s buckskin was gone.

“Where’s Pa?”

Hoss was watching the coffee pot. “North pasture.”  
* * * * *

With a long moan of relief, Adam stomped his tired legs through the doorway, beat the dust off his Stetson against a lean thigh, then tossed the hat onto the halltree by the door.

Across the room, sprawled comfortably on the sofa, hands clasped behind his head, Joe snored peacefully.

Adam considered waking him, hesitated, then strolled over to the couch anyway. Quietly he eyed the recumbent form slumbering contentedly. “Hey,” he urged, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Wake up. You, uh, finish the fence already?”

“Nope.” Joe didn’t open his eyes.

“Then what are you doing home?”

“Taking a nap, what’s it look like?”

Adam released a long sigh. “In case it has escaped your attention, little brother, we have a ranch to run. While you’re trying to get in some extra bunk-time, the rest of us are busting our asses out there.” His frown of exasperation suddenly turned into a sweet smile. “Oh, but I forgot. Little brother didn’t get in until two o’clock in the morning. You and Laurie must’ve had a fine time.”

Joe sighed impatiently.

“… Night before that, you were out ‘til three with her…”

“Leave Laurie out of this.”

“… then of course, there was Wednesday last week. You didn’t come home at all that night…”

“All right, you made your point…”

“… Little brother thinks he’s a real stud with the ladies…”

“All right, Adam, that’s enough.” Joe pushed himself to his feet. “I wasn’t out with Laurie, and it’s none of your damn business even if I was. Now, did you come all the way home just to give me a hard time, or is there something you really want to say?”

“I want you to get your tail out there with the rest of us, and put in a full day’s work like everybody else around here, if that’s not asking too much. Oh, and of course, that is, if you didn’t wear yourself out last night…”

“You keep your mouth off Laurie! In fact, why don’t you just shut up, Adam?”

“And why don’t you keep your ass outside, instead of all the ladies’ boudoirs?”

“I said shut up!”

Adam’s eyes flashed, then narrowed. “Watch who you talk to like that, boy,” he commented quietly. “Now, get out there and finish that fence.”

“No.” Anger twisted Joe’s face. “Look, I’ve been up since three this morning – while you and everybody else around here were still soundly snoring away. I chopped the firewood, finished the barn roof, then rode fence all day until I ran out of wire. Now is there anything else you’d like to say, big brother?”

Adam lingered for a moment, then turned to leave. “Well, you better finish the fence this afternoon, then.”

Joe grabbed his arm. “Maybe I was gonna finish it whether you told me to or not!”

Adam looked down at Joe’s grasp.

Joe held on. “Maybe I’m getting sick of you ordering me around like I’m still a kid. You think you’re my boss, you think you’re better’n me, just because your mother came from Boston…”

“What’s the matter, your Creole blood getting hot?”

“Oh, don’t bring that up, Adam… Do I ever bring up that your grandfather was some sea captain?”

Adam’s face tightened. “Why, you little brat…”

“I wonder which sea captain.”

Adam’s hand smashed across Joe’s face. Joe’s head snapped back.

For a minute they confronted each other silently, then Adam crumpled Joe’s shirt front in a tight fist. “You’re going to take that back, boy,” he hissed.

Joe’s eyes flashed. No.” Hot blood flushed his stinging cheek. He glared defiantly. “You want to hit me again, don’t you? Well, go ahead.”

Adam raised a fist, then hesitated. His brother’s ace was still disturbingly discolored by the fading bruises left from the Crowleys’ beating.

“Well, all right, brother,” Joe still frowned, “if you won’t, then I will…”   And he swung a roundhouse blow that sprawled Adam back against the table.

Adam grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. Joe was taunting.

“C’mon, big brother. What’s the matter – you too old to take care of yourself anymore?”

“You stinking little punk.” Adam pushed himself forward.

Joe swung again; Adam just slipped the punch, then delivered a jarring right to the boy’s ribs. It jolted Joe; the smug grin dropped from his face.

Grabbing two fistfuls of Joe’s shirt, Adam swung him around, then cocked a backhand fist that cracked off his jaw and dropped him to the floor.

Flat on his back, Joe panted for breath, one hand testing his throbbing jaw, the other clamped to his ribs.

“Well, c’mon, little brother,” Adam snapped, then mimicked Joe’s taunt, “What’s the matter – you still a baby, can’t take care of yourself yet?”

Joe lashed out a boot heel; Adam caved at the knees. Joe dived on top of him, flailing away at face and stomach. Adam swore, blocked a wild swing to his head, then launched one of his own. Joe’s head rocked back, and blood ran from his nose.

Eyes flashed, Joe dropped on Adam again. He aimed a wicked left at the bruised face beneath him; Adam parried, socked a fist into Joe’s middle. Joe gagged, momentarily paralyzed, eyes, mouth open.

Negligently Adam pushed him off, then pulled himself painfully to his feet and started to walk away.

A hand grabbed his ankle, and jerked. He hit the floor with a thud.

Again Joe landed on him. They rolled, arms locked, squirming to break each other’s grip. They knocked against the table leg; something on top fell over and broke. They paid no attention.

Abruptly Adam doubled over with a fist deep in his belly. Joe swung on his unprotected face.

From the doorway, a long roar exploded. “Stop it, both of you!”

Joe paid no heed, unleashing a flurry of blows on Adam’s midsection.

Ben burst into the room, grabbed Joe by the collar, and jerked him off Adam, then squeezed his struggling body in a vice grip.

“I said stop it!”

Joe wriggled and writhed to free himself, so he could jump back on his brother and finish him off right.

Instead, he found himself hurtling in the opposite direction, right smack into the wall. A thousand pains exploded. Dazedly he slid down to his seat.

The father’s glare shifted between the two younger men sitting on the floor across from each other. He was breathing hard, face set in rumbling anger. “Now, what the hell is going on?!”

Adam was heaving for air, arms pressed to his belly. Sweaty hair hung in his eyes. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Ben grabbed his elbow, jerked him to his feet. Burning gaze riveted his eldest son. “Now, would somebody care to explain what is going on here?”

Still panting for breath, Adam watched his brother. “That little brat insulted my mother!”

A heavy eyebrow raised. “Insulted your mother!” The dark glare turned on Joe, who had dragged himself to his feet painfully bay the table. “Joseph, is that true?”

Joe didn’t answer. He turned away, smeared a forearm across his blood nose.

“I asked you a question, boy.”

Adam touched the back of a hand to swollen bleeding lips. “Tell him… brother.”

Joe shot a glance down over his shoulder. “Yeah, Pa, it’s true.”

“Why?”

Joe’s mouth tightened in silence.

“You know she was my wife, Joseph, the same as your mother…”

“I know!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me, boy!” An imminent explosion seethed inside of Ben. “Now, is someone going to tell me what the hell this is all about, or do I have to take a switch to the both of you?”

“I found Joe asleep on the couch,” Adam answered. “I told him to get to work.”

“And I told you I already did my work! And I’m sick and tired of you bossing me around and treating me like a child. Just keep off my back – brother!”

“As long as you act like a child, I’ll treat you like one!”

“All right, that’s enough out of both of you!” Ben pushed Adam back. “And I’ve told you all before, you have any fighting to do, you do it outside! I’m not going to have this house torn apart!” Picking up the pieces of shattered porcelain from the table, he showed them to Joe. “Do you know what this was, Joseph?”

Sullenly Joe glanced at the fragments. “Mother’s vase.”

“That’s right. It belonged to your mother. She brought it all the way from New Orleans. It meant a great deal to me.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. It was one of the few things I had left of hers.” A heavy sigh escaped him. “Dammit, you know better than to fight in here!”

“Well, I’m sorry!” Joe’s voice choked. “I didn’t mean to break it, and I’m sorry! What else do you want me to say? You’ve all been pushing me around, and I’m getting sick and tired of it! You think I’m still five years old, you can still put me over your knee whenever you like…”

Adam pushed forward against Ben’s restraining hand. “Maybe that’s what you need, you little brat.”

Joe jabbed a finger at his eldest brother. “I thought I told you to shut up!”

“And I told you to watch who you said that to!”

“Shut up, both of you!”

They ignored Ben

“Get your ass off me, Adam!”

“Only when you start acting like a man instead of some prize stud-bull for the ladies!”

Joe stiffened. “You bastard!”

In one turn of his body, Ben blocked Adam’s maddened rush, then smashed a work-toughened hand right across Joe’s already-swollen face. It jolted Joe like a pistol shot. He spun into the table, momentarily blinded and stunned.

Ben was a bellowing rage. “Don’t you EVER say that again, boy!”

Drunkenly Joe clung to the table. His brain throbbed like it was going to explode. He reached a raw-knuckled hand to his bloody face to the hide the tears of pain and humiliation that flooded from his eyes. His stomach heaved. He thought he was going to be sick.

~ ~ ~

 _to be continued_ …


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoss tried to insist, “Pa…”  
> “No! We’re not a goddamn bunch of vigilantes! I’m going to have a talk with Joshua Crowley. There’s not going to be any gunplay.”  
> “Then how come you’re loadin’ your belt?”

“You two just had to keep it up, didn’t you?” Ben fumed. “You had to keep going ‘til some-one really got hurt. Just couldn’t stop after a few words, could you? No, you had to keep picking away at each other, keep stabbing deeper…”

Adam was still panting. “Well, if that little…”

“And you shut up, Adam! I’m not going to take another word out of either one of you!”

Stiffly Joe pushed himself up, testing his mashed lips with the back of a hand. Words snapped out in a chilled whisper. “Well, I think I’ve had just about enough!” And pivoting on a boot heel, he started away.

But the father’s imperative voice stopped him. “And I think you’ve been just a little too cocky and impudent these last few weeks. Don’t think you’re too old for me to take a strap to you.”

Outside, heavy boots tromped up the front steps.

Joe jerked his head jerked around to his father’s hefty figure. Ben was unbuckling his belt. Joe’s eyes widened; his chest heaved. “Pa, don’t…”

Ben’s face burned with rage. “Are you telling me now that I need your permission to belt you?” He doubled up the leather. “Now, are you going to stand up like a man and take your punish­ment, or do I put you over my knee?”

Impotent anger flushed Joe’s swollen bruised face; frustration made him tremble. His angry glare crossed his father’s; his voice caught in a tight whisper. “I’ll stand.” Darkly he shot a glance at his brother to see if Adam was enjoying his shame.

But Adam had turned his back.

Joe looked away; closed his eyes. Waiting.

The bootsteps entered the house.

With a crack, the belt laid across his rump. Joe grunted, stiffened. He gripped the table edge to keep from swaying.

“Pa,” Hoss called from the doorway. “Pa, we need you at the barn.”

”Just a minute,” Ben replied.

The heavy strap stung Joe’s thighs again.

“Pa…”

“Dammit, I’m busy right now. I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Pa, it can’t wait,” Hoss insisted. “Please.”

Joe looked back at his middle brother. Hoss was watching him, pain in pale blue eyes, but Joe couldn’t tell if it was for him, or for whatever was happening at the barn. “Pa, please, it’s important.”

For a moment, Ben hesitated. Then abruptly he released a sigh, and dropped his arm. “All right. But it better be damned important.” His glare impaled Joe. “And you’re going to be here when I get back. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Pa,” Joe snapped.

Still gripping the belt, Ben turned and strode out of the house behind his second son. Adam followed uninvited.

There was no one at the barn when they arrived. Everything looked calm and normal.

Ben squinted around. “All right, what’s going on?”

Hoss frowned at the dirt. “Pa… I got to talk with you.”

“You what?” Ben glared at his boy, then his eyes narrowed with sudden understanding. “Dammit! You called me out here for nothing, didn’t you? You just wanted to save your brother a strapping!”

“Yeah, Pa,” Hoss admitted quietly.

“How dare you interfere!”

“I’m sorry, Pa,” the big man insisted. “Really I am. Please don’t be mad.”

“Don’t be mad! What the hell am I supposed to be? First, the Crowleys start shooting up the waterhole, then your brothers break up the house, then you interfere with my discipline… Maybe it’s you I should take the belt to!”

“All right, Pa, sure, whatever you say. But just hear me out first. Please.”

Ben shot an impatient look back at the house, belt in hand.

“Please, Pa.”

Ben’s gaze lingered on the house.

“Pa…”

“All right.” Ben released a breath. “All right. You got me out here. Say your piece, then let me get back to your brother.”

Hoss didn’t look at his father. “Pa, Joe didn’t mean any harm…”

“Didn’t mean any harm!” The deep voice bellowed. “We’re facing the worst drought we’ve had in twelve years, Josh Crowley’s trying to start a range war, and then your brother rides over to the Crowleys – against my orders – and gets himself beaten up…”

“Pa, he didn’t mean to disobey…”

“He’s been disrespectful, smart-mouthed…”

”He’s just been upset…”

“Upset! What does he think _I’ve_ been? The last thing I need right now is trouble from my own sons!”

“Will you listen to me, Pa… please.”

Ben squinted away from the younger man. “All right. You talked your way into trouble – you might as well try to talk your way out.”

Hoss’ face was tight with hurt. “Joe’s just been feelin’ his oats lately.”

A deprecating sound escaped Adam’s nostrils. “That’s not what I’d call it.”

Hoss ignored his older brother. “We been so busy lately that… we all keep forgettin’ that Little Joe ain’t a half-broke colt no more. He’s full-grown now, an’ he’s chompin’ at the bit. Now, you just can’t go holdin’ that against him. He turned eighteen last month. He’s a man now.”

“A man knows how to take responsibility.”

“Sure, Pa, but…”

“He’s acted rude, arrogant, insulting… by insulting Adam, he insulted me!”

“Pa, now, you know he didn’t really mean it. He’s just not thinking straight.”

“Well, maybe this belt will straighten his thinking out…”

“No, Pa – please. It won’t.”

“Why not?”

“We got to show Little Joe that we trust him, Pa, show him that we know he can handle re­sponsibility. He’s just fightin’ us ‘cause he thinks we’re holding him back.”

“Well, he’s wrong. I’ve given you boys responsibility since you were little – I’ve had to. To run this ranch, I’ve needed the help of all of you. I’ve been treating Joseph like a man for years now… Holding him back – that’s fool talk!”

“Sure, Pa, I know it. But… somethin’s got into Joe’s head lately, and he thinks that… we think he’s still a little kid. And by takin’ the belt to him, well… you’re just sayin’ he’s right. And he’s gonna fight us all the harder.”

“Dammit, that’s still no excuse for his behavior. Disobeying me, taking his own head…”

“Well, what do you expect from another stubborn Cartwright? He’s got your mule blood, same as Adam, same as me.”

Ben shot a sharp glance at his middle son to see if he could detect a glimmer of cockiness in the man's eyes, but Hoss’ face was dead serious.

Adam folded his arms. “That still doesn’t explain why he provoked a fight with me.”

“Don’t it? Or was he the one that provoked it?” The big man was looking at his brother. “You been ridin’ him pretty hard too. Maybe you don’t remember what happened when you became a man – it’s been a long time – but you was just like Joe – even worse. And you was only sixteen.”

Adam looked down at the ground with tightened lips, nodded quickly.

“Pa, you remember. You an’ Adam had a big fight. An’ Adam left for two years…”

“I remember.”

Hoss was pleading. “Don’t let the same thing happen to Little Joe. Please.”

Ben didn’t answer.

Finally Hoss looked away. “That’s… all I had to say, Pa. Now, if you wanna strap me now, well, maybe I deserve it.”

For a long time, no one spoke. Ben turned away from his sons. He looked down at the belt still in his hand, then without a word, buckled it back on. “C’mon,” he said quietly. “Supper’s wait­ing.”

As their father strode back to the house, Adam eyed his younger brother. “You took a big chance,” he commented. “Pa could’ve had your hide for what you did.”

Hoss just nodded with a shrug, and laid his arm across Adam’s shoulders. The pair followed Ben into the house.

Joe was still in the sitting room, standing beside the table, where they had left him. He didn’t look up when the three entered.

Ben watched him for a moment, then started toward the kitchen. “Supper’s in five minutes. You better wash up before you come to the table. You too, Adam.”

“I’m not hungry,” Joe announced simply, then marched upstairs to his room. The door slammed shut.

Ben took a step toward the staircase. Hoss gripped his arm. “Pa.”

Adam had started for the stairs at the same time. “Well, if he thinks we’re gonna beg him…”

”Let him be, Adam,” Hoss urged. “You’ve been givin’ a pretty hard time already today.”

Adam looked back over his shoulder. “And what kind of time do you think he’s been giving me?”

“Adam, c’mon.”

Ben indicated the kitchen by a nod to the side. “C’mon, let’s eat. Your brother will come down when he wants to.”  
* * * * *

Adam ignored the plate of food in front of him. Instead, his attention kept shifting from Joe’s room up on the balcony to his father and brother around the table, then back up to Joe’s room.

With an abrupt sigh, he dropped his fork onto his plate.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Your jaw too sore to eat, Adam?”

“Huh?’ Adam looked up, then shook his head. “Nah, it’s not that.”

“Well, anyway, after supper we’ll get out the arnica. You and Joe beat each other up pretty badly. Your face looks a sight.”

“Yeah,” Hoss grinned. “Boy, if Katie saw you now, she’d prob’ly faint dead away!”

But Adam didn’t smile. “No, I’ll be fine. Just a couple of bruises.” His face tightened, and he shot another glance up at Joe’s bedroom door. “Dammit, I just don’t understand what’s gotten into Joe these last couple of weeks. He’s just not acting right… I mean, he’s just not acting like himself.”

The grin dropped from Hoss’ face. “Yeah, guess you’re right. But like I said, it’s probably just growing pains…”

“No. No, it’s more than that. All right, maybe I was just a little upset today, maybe I got on his back once too often about doing his chores, about Laurie… I dunno. I mean, I’ve nagged him before, and sure, maybe we take a poke at each other. But this time, I think he was ready to knock my teeth out. If Pa hadn't come in when he did…”

“Adam’s right,” Ben interrupted. “This is more than just growing pains.”

Adam glanced between his father and his brother. “Say, I wonder if his little run-in with the Crowleys has anything to do with it. That’s just about when all this started.”

“Yeah,” Hoss agreed. “He’s been pretty upset by the Crowleys.”

“We’ve all been upset by the Crowleys,” Ben retorted. “Your brother never should have gone over there by himself without even telling me…”

“C’mon, Pa,” Hoss urged. “We been all through that before. Now, we’ve all had a lot on our minds this past week. Prob’ly none of us been acting like ourselves. Maybe somethin’s bothering Little Joe that he just don’t want to share with us right now. Maybe he just needs a little time.”

Adam threw his napkin on the table, and pushed himself up from his chair. “Time isn’t gonna help. He’s been sulking now for almost a month. I think it’s time somebody had a talk with him – get it out in the air, whatever it is. He can’t hide away forever.”

Hoss rose at the same time. “No, wait, Adam. You go in there like that, well, he’s liable to take another poke at you. Here, I’ll go – maybe he’ll talk to me.”

“Sit down, both of you,” Ben interrupted. “I’m still his father. If there’s any talking to be done, I’ll do it.”

“Pa…” Hoss tried to insist, but Ben ignored him.  
* * * * *

Joe didn’t answer Ben’s knock. Ben rapped again, called softly, “Joe, it’s me. May I come in?”

“I can’t stop you.”

Ben pushed the door open.

Joe was lying on the bed, his back to the door.

Ben approached the bed. “I… guess we all have some apologies to make… I didn’t mean to whip you, son… I was angry, I lost my temper… I’m sorry.”

Joe nodded stiffly.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ben reached a hesitant hand to the boy’s shoulder. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Joe didn’t proffer any conversation.

In a forced gesture of reassurance, Ben squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “Now, why don’t you come on down and eat something with the rest of us? You’ll feel better. C’mon.”

“No, Pa,” Joe resisted. “I really don’t feel like it. Maybe later.”

A tired sigh escaped Ben. This was going to be more difficult than necessary. “Joseph,” he managed as patiently as he could, “I think you should go down anyway. I think you owe your brother an apology for some of the things you said.”

“I don’t owe him an apology for anything!” Joe snapped abruptly. “You tell Adam to come up here and apologize to me first, then we’ll see!”

“Joseph…”

“No, Pa! No, Pa. I’m not gonna go crawlin’ and beggin’ to him. He deserved every word I said! And you can tell him, and Hoss too, to just leave me alone from now on. I’m sick to death of their superiority and babying me, and ordering me around, and…”

“Joseph! Joseph, look at me.” Ben felt his temper flaring again. He took his son’s shoulders with both hands. “Look at me, boy.”

Stiffly Joe looked back at one of the strong vein-ridged hands gripping him.

“Joseph, you’re not concerned about being babied or ordered around, or treated like you’re five years old. Something else is eating you. Now, what’s this all about? What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing is bothering me!”

“C’mon – you’ve been acting up for almost a month now. Something is wrong. Now, what is it?”

“No!”

“Joe, I didn’t come in here just to fight again…”

“Then get out of here.” Joe yanked away from his father. “And leave me alone!”

“Don’t talk to me like that, boy, or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what?” Now the young man twisted to face his father. “Or you’ll what? Take your belt to me again?”

“Stop it!”

“You wanna strap me some more? Put me over your knee?”

“I said stop it!”

“Well, go ahead – if that’ll make you feel any better. Go ahead!”

“Joseph, that’s enough!”

The boy glared at the white-haired man, his face tight with pain and anger. “You wanna know what’s bothering me, you really wanna know? Well, I’ll tell you. I was raped!” His voice caught. “Like a piece of trash! A rich fancy Cartwright was raped like a stinking piece of trash!”

Ben Cartwright looked stunned, like something had just exploded right in front of his face. His voice was no more than a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

Joe’s eyes welled with tears. He tried to force his trembling voice. “I’m talking about being dragged into a barn, then those two stinking Crowley bastards holding a knife to my face and taking turns raping me like a stupid stinking piece of trash! That’s what I’m talking about!” The tears floo­ded down his cheeks. He rolled onto his side away from his father. “Now, is that what you wanted to hear? I hope it makes you happy. I hope it makes you real goddamn happy!”

Ben didn’t answer. For a minute, neither one of them was aware that the door had opened, and Adam and Hoss were standing in the doorway with bandages, a pan of hot water, and a half-full whiskey bottle.

Joe’s taut tensed body just collapsed in tears. “Oh my god…”

Hoss was frowning in pain. “We’re sorry, Little Joe… we didn’t mean to hear if you didn’t want us to… we didn’t know…”

“Then why don’t you all just get the hell out of here, and leave me alone?” The boy’s face was buried in his pillow. “Just… go away! Go away!”

By a quiet nod to the door, Ben indicated that Adam and Hoss leave. They put the supplies on the dresser top, then reluctantly stepped outside the room to wait for their father.

After a few minutes Ben came out, closing the door behind himself. He didn’t say anything, but pushed past his two older sons and tromped downstairs to the sitting room.

They watched as Ben strode over to the halltree, took his hat, then buckled on his gunbelt. Then marching into the study, he yanked open a desk drawer and took out a box of cartridges to load his belt.

When he looked up from his work, Adam and Hoss stood in front of the desk, hats in hand, holsters slung low on hips.

Ben slammed the drawer closed. “Where the hell do you two think you’re going?”

“Same place you are,” Adam responded calmly, directly. “Pay the Crowleys a visit.”

“No you’re not.”

“Pa,” Hoss insisted, “dammit they raped Little Joe. I think we owe ‘em something…”

“That’s exactly why you’re staying right here until I get back. You’re both too goddamn hot-tempered, you’d just cause trouble…”

“Well, of course we would…”

Ben’s glare impaled both of them. “Neither one of you is going to step a foot outside this house until I get back, is that clear?”

Adam released a taut breath. “Yeah… sure, Pa.”

Hoss tried to insist, “Pa…”

“No! We’re not a goddamn bunch of vigilantes! I’m going to have a talk with Joshua Crow­ley. There’s not going to be any gunplay.”

“Then how come you’re loadin’ your belt?”

Ben glared the big man down, without an answer.

“Pa,” Adam tried to interrupt, “I think it’s way past talking now. The last time we were over there, Josh said there’d be bloodshed if we came back.”

“He didn’t really mean it…”

“Well, what do you call that business at the waterhole this morning?”

For just a moment, Been looked at his two sons, then strode to the front door. “I’ll be back,” he said simply.

The door slammed behind him.

For a long minute, Hoss frowned worriedly after their father. “I don’t like it,” he admitted finally.

“Neither do I.”

“Him goin’ out to the Crowley place alone. Even if Josh didn’t mean anything, those two boys just might try to scare him.”

“They might try to do more than just scare him. I think we better go after him.”

Hoss caught his brother’s arm. “Just a minute, Adam. We go out right now, and he’ll just send us right back. Let him get a good head-start – we’ll catch up to him just before he gets to the Crowleys. C’mon.”

“Yeah,” Adam sighed, “guess you’re right.”

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gingerly he tested his grip: the fingers were too weak, too stiff. He’d just have to pray real hard that his life wouldn’t depend on his fast draw for the next few days. That had been a stupid thing to do – smashing his fists on Adam’s thick skull. He’d probably hurt his hands more than Adam’s face. Well, at least he’d put a dent in Adam’s love-life. Big brother wouldn’t be kissing anybody for awhile at least.

The whiskey stung the raw knuckles of his left hand. Involuntarily Joe hissed, then grabbed a strip of cloth and wound it around his hand.

Gingerly he tested his grip: the fingers were too weak, too stiff. He’d just have to pray real hard that his life wouldn’t depend on his fast draw for the next few days. That had been a stupid thing to do – smashing his fists on Adam’s thick skull. He’d probably hurt his hands more than Adam’s face. Well, at least he’d put a dent in Adam’s love-life. Big brother wouldn’t be kissing anybody for awhile at least.

He’d had just about enough of Adam – in fact, he’d had just about enough of all the Cartwrights to last a lifetime. Maybe it was time to leave, start making his own way in the world – the world that existed outside the Ponderosa and Ben Cartwright’s domain. Prove to them who wasn’t just a baby brother any longer.

Downstairs Adam and Hoss were conversing in low tones. He’d wait until they left – he’d have to pack anyway. And then, hopefully, if luck was going his way, they wouldn’t bother to check his room until breakfast time – give him a good head-start.

He’d have to go somewhere where they wouldn’t think to look for him awhile. He’d also have to go somewhere where he could get a job. Somewhere where the Cartwright name meant nothing. That was the trouble being Ben Cartwright’s son: someone, somewhere, was going to recognize him and tell the Ponderosa. Then Pa, Adam, and Hoss would come and get him and bring him home like a little stray calf.

Maybe he could get lost in the California mining towns, where no one asked questions – no one cared who a man was or where he came from. He’d have to keep moving for the first couple of months – not stay in any one place too long – until the family finally gave up searching for him.

Laurie. God, he’d almost forgotten about her. He’d stop by her place first. She’d go with him, and they could get married in Virginia City or Reno in the morning.

Downstairs the front door slammed shut, and two pairs of boots strode across the porch. Good, they were leaving now.

Well, within the hour, they’d be out of his life, and he’d be out of theirs.  
* * * * *

Carefully the dun gelding picked its way along the rough trail that led to the Crowley’s cabin. In the dark, the trail was obscure and difficult to follow, but Ben could see the light coming from the log cabin in the clearing. He guessed Joshua was there – he hoped the boys were too. If they weren’t, he’d find them, wherever they were.

Hoofbeats pounded up from behind. Maybe they’d find him first. With a short whisper to his horse, Ben tugged the buckskin off the road into the brush.

Two horses pulled up into a walk. One of the riders spoke to the other. “You reckon we’re too late, Adam?”

Ben nudged his mount back onto the road behind them. “No, you’re not too late.”

The pair jerked around.

Ben frowned. “I told you not to leave the house.”

Adam heeled his horse into a walk alongside his father’s. “Well, we decided you might need some help, if the Crowleys try to do more than just talk.”

“Since when do you two make the decisions in this family?”

“Pa, we were worried you might be in danger.” Hoss flanked his father on the other side.

“When I need your help, I’ll let…”

A rifle shot whined overhead. Abruptly they reined up short. Adam reached for his pistol.

“Adam!” Ben hissed, and stopped his arm.

“Pa…!”

“No!”

Ben rode on, closer to the house, Adam and Hoss following warily.

“Pa,” Hoss cautioned. “Don’t get too close.”

“That was just a warning shot.”

“Yeah, well, the next one might not be.”

About fifty feet from the house, the trio reined in. No second shot followed. Ben cupped a hand to the side of his mouth. “Crowley!” he yelled. “Joshua, are you there?”

No one answered.

“Crowley!”

From inside Josh Crowley called back, “I got nothing to say to you, Cartwright!”

“Well, I have something to say to you! I want to talk!”

Crowley was silent for a moment before he answered. “Well, I don’t want any shooting!”

“Neither do I,” Ben yelled. “I just want to talk!”

Slowly the cabin door opened, and Joshua Crowley stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Come in, then, Cartwright, say your piece, and then leave me alone.”

Ben Cartwright and his two sons rode forward to the house, dismounted by the hitching rail, then marched up the steps into the house.

For a minute, the two older men regarded each other silently, grudgingly.

Then Crowley snapped, “All right, Cartwright, what have you got to say that hasn’t already been said?”

Ben gazed coldly into the man’s face. “I just learned something today that I hadn't known before.”

Crowley didn’t interrupt.

Ben continued. “Three weeks ago, your boys beat up my son Joseph…”

Crowley’s face tightened. “The boys were all just letting off a little steam…”

“… they beat him up, pistol-whipped him – and then they raped him!”

Joshua Crowley stiffened as thought he’d just taken a slap full in the face. “Rape!” He almost exploded. “What the hell are you talking about?! Who in hell said anything about rape?”

“My son did. He said your boys held a knife to his face and took turns raping him!”

“He’s lying!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Get out of here, Cartwright!. Get out before I forget that I don’t want any blood spilled…”

“Come on, Crowley!”

“Dammit, Cartwright, I knew you wanted that north pasture creek. But I didn’t know you wanted it so bad, you’d lie like that to get it!”

“Oh, c’mon, Crowley! This isn’t about the creek! We’ve been neighbors for fifteen years. You know us well enough to…”

“I think I know my own sons well enough to know if they’d do something so stinking…”

“I think you do too.”

Crowley’s pale rheumy eyes flashed, then narrowed. “Why don’t you ask my sons for their side of the story, before you start throwing around your dirty accusations?”

Adam indicated the pair who had just strolled into the room behind their father. “Well, why don’t you ask them yourself, Mr. Crowley?”

Joshua Crowley seemed to draw himself up defensively, if only in his glare. Slowly, stiffly, he turned, impaled the young men behind him with a beam of fury. His voice was slow, quiet, crackling with suppressed rage. “Mr. Cartwright here says you two raped his boy Joe. Is that true?”

Nat was grinning. His smirking eyes locked with Ben’s hot dark glare. “Well, you got a real pretty boy there, Mr. Cartwright,” he drawled.

“Real pretty.” Austin’s lazy smile matched his brother’s. “And like our pa said, we was all just lettin’ off a little steam...”

Adam and Hoss lunged forward, ready to kill. But Ben grabbed them both by the arms, and hauled them back roughly. “Stop it!” he hissed.

Crowley didn’t say a word. He walked over to his sons, looked one over, then the other.

Then suddenly, brutally, his large beefy hand swung, caught Nat in the face forehanded, then Austin backhanded, sprawling them both onto the couch.

And when he did speak, his voice was as calm and quiet as before. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see either one of you again for as long as I live. Get out and don’t ever come back. Do you understand me?”

Suddenly the boys didn’t look quite a smug as before. Under their father’s maddened glare, they both backed off. “Uh, yeah, sure, Pa,” Austin stammered, still grinning weakly.

“And don’t call me Pa. I have no sons anymore.”

After the boys disappeared from the room, Joshua slowly turned back to Ben. His pale eyes were stoically impassive, his voice tightly controlled. “If you came to see them punished, it’s been done. Now, is there anything else you came to tell me?”

Ben’s face had softened. “No.”

“Then go back to your Ponderosa, Ben Cartwright, and leave me in peace. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

Silently Adam and Hoss followed their father back to the horses.  
* * * * *

Joe tossed another stone at the darkened window. “Laurie!” he hissed. “Laurie, it’s me, Joe!”

Another pebble clattered against the glass. “Laurie!”

Someone rustled around inside, then the window was pushed up, and Laurie leaned out. “Joe!” she whispered, “Where are you?”

Joe moved out into the moonlight. “Come on out, Laurie. I gotta talk with you. Please.”

“Joe, do you know what time it is?”

“I know. Please, Laurie. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

“All right, just a minute.”

The window closed.

Joe scanned the blackness around him. If they didn’t check his room until breakfast, that would give him about seven hours’ head-start. Seven hours – to go where?”

The front door opened quietly, and Laurie tip-toed out. A robe had been hastily pulled over her nightgown. “Joe! Are you out there?” she whispered.

Joe hurried to the front porch, greeted her with a hug and a long hard kiss. Eagerly she returned the pressure of his hands and his lips, and for a minute, they just stood there squeezing tightly, not moving, not saying a word. So close, so good, neither wanted to end it.

But finally they did, and as Laurie drew back a little, she caught sight of the new bruises and swellings marring his face, and her hands slid down his arms to the bandages swathing his knuckles.

“Joe, what’s wrong? Were you in another fight?”

A bitter grin tightened the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Adam ‘n’ me took a couple of punches at each other.”

“You and Adam… why, Joe?”

“There’s no time to explain.” His bandaged hands took her shoulders, his gaze roamed over her face. “Laurie, I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Ponderosa, I’m going to California maybe, I don’t know.”

A look of pain changed her expression. “Why? What’s wrong, Joe? What’s happened to you?” Her teary eyes searched his face. “Joe, you haven’t been the same since you had that trouble with the Crowley boys. Does that have anything to do with this? What did they do to you?”

He shook his head. “I just can’t talk about it right now, and there isn’t any time anyway.”

“But I thought you were going to stay on the ranch. You said it was going to be your future.”

“Laurie, things have changed. I just can’t stay any longer. I have to go, find my own way. I can’t stay Little Joe Cartwright forever. Maybe I’ve got to prove that I can make it without them, that I’m good enough…”

“Joe, they already know that, and so do I…”

“No! Don’t you see that’s just not enough? Sure, that’s what everyone says. Well, I’m sick and tired of what everyone says. I’ve got to know, for myself!”

She looked down resignedly. “Then I guess you’ve come to say goodbye, is that it?”

“Oh no!” Abruptly he shook his head, her tears mirrored in his eyes. “No, not at all! No, I came to ask you to go with me, share my life with me… I want you to be my wife. I need you, Laurie. Let’s get married – right now.” Gently he stroked her shoulders. “Please. I love you… I want you with me.”

Her eyes had jerked up to his again in surprise, but before she could speak, he squeezed her to himself for another kiss.

For just a moment she didn’t respond, then slowly she pressed closer until this kiss was even harder than the first one. He was trembling in her arms, partly in passion, but mostly in tenderness, as his mouth and tongue worked against hers. Her fingers took the sides of his head, stroked his thick hair.

But when the pressure between them eased and he looked down into her eyes, he saw no happiness there, only hurt and pain and tears.

She touched his soft black curls. “Joe, do you know what you’re asking?”

“I’m asking you to marry me, to go away with me.”

“No. You’re asking me to _run_ away with you.”

“Well, what difference does that make?”

“But that’s just it, Joe. It makes all the difference in the world. If you were sure, if you knew what you wanted…”

“I know I want you.”

“No, Joe. Like you said, that’s just not enough. If you were running toward something, I’d go with you, no matter how far it was. But you’re running away, and you don’t even know where you’re going.” Again she stroked his hair gently. “Something happened to you, I don’t know what it was, but it hurt you very badly, and you think you can lose it just by running away from it. And by the time you realize you can’t, you’ll have hurt the people who love you the most: your father, your brothers, me…”

“But I want you to come with me… Laurie, I love you.”

“And I love you too, Joe. I love you more than anything else in the world, and I want to marry you, and share your life. But until you’re sure of what you want, until you’ve found the answers you’re looking for, it just wouldn’t work out. And I want it to work out, Joe.”

He reached for her hand, rubbed an idle thumb across her fingers. “I’ll be back, Laurie. I don’t know when, so I won’t ask you to wait for me. Maybe you’ll find some other guy while I’m gone, and you’ll want to marry him…”

She started to shake her head, but he nodded insistently. “… and if you do, well, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. But if you want to wait, if you’re still here when I come back, and you still want me…”

“Joe,” she interrupted. “I’ll want you when you come back. I want you right now. I’ll be waiting for you.”

And tangling her fingers in the thick dark waves over his ears, she tilted his head down to touch his lips to hers again. He responded hungrily. His arms slipped around her waist, and they stood there like that for a long time.  
* * * * *

He couldn’t get into that bath soon enough. A nice hot tub, then a big soft bed. Heaven, right up those stairs and down the hall. That is, if he could make it right up those stairs and down the hall. His body felt like someone had taken a bullwhip to it. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ached so bad.

As he crossed the hotel lobby to the staircase, the proprietor signalled him back, but Joe pretended not to notice. Right now, nothing was more important than that bath. Whatever the man wanted could wait ‘til Joe came down later for supper.

Two weeks of pick and shovel, two weeks of throbbing aching muscles, of raw blistered hands. Eighteen years of ranching, and it didn’t seem to count for one damn thing. Now the idea of chasing a couple hundred ornery bawling steers down the trail sounded like a vacation. When the foreman at the mines had originally remarked that first day how soft Joe was, Joe had been ready to punch him out. Now he’d be perfectly willing to agree with the man. In fact, if he ever ran into him again, he’d even buy the man a drink.

But not until he’d enjoyed a nice long bath with lots of hot water. And lots of soap.

He slammed the door shut with one hand, reached up to his shirt buttons with the other.

A body shifted behind him, and a familiar voice greeted, “Hi, brother.”

Eyes blazing, Joe jerked around.

Hoss was slouched in the corner, thumbs hooked in belt loops. His eyes were calm, serious.

Joe swore silently. He threw his shirt onto the bed. “What are you doing here?!”

Hoss strolled closer. “I come to have that talk you cheated us out of.”

“I didn’t cheat you out of anything!” Joe started to yell, then caught himself. Stiffly he forced himself to remain calm. “Get out of here!”

“Not until we talk.”

“I got nothin’ to say.”

“Well, maybe _I_ got something to say.”

“Then say it and get out! And I got no need for you anymore. So just get the hell outta here, and go home and have Pa wipe your nose.”

“I s’pose you got no need for Pa anymore either. Or Adam, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“In fact, you got no need for anybody in the whole world except Joseph Cartwright, ain’t that right?”

“I told you to get the hell out of here!”

“And I told you we’re gonna talk.”

Belligerently Joe lurched toward his brother. But the big man, almost twice the boy’s the boy’s weight and a least a head taller, just slouched back unagressively. “Don’t pick a fight with me, little brother. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Why not? Because I’m your baby brother? Adam and Pa whipped me, they didn’t seem to mind.”

“C’mon, Joe, cool off. I got no fight with you. I just came to talk.”

“Then say your piece and get out. And leave me alone.”

“Joe, what’s eating you?”

“I told you – nothing!”

“I don’t believe it.” Through quiet eyes, Hoss watched his younger brother. “Joe, there’s a man who loves you more than anything else in the world scared half to death.”

“Oh sure. That’s why he whipped me like a little wet-nosed whelp.”

“Well, maybe you were acting like a little wet-nosed whelp.”

Joe release a sigh. “Oh boy, here we go.”

“And stop feeling sorry for yourself. That’s what you’re doin’, ain’t it? You’re having a lot of fun just feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Shut up, Hoss!” Joe snapped. “Y’know, I thought you were on my side. When Adam insulted me and Pa whipped me, I thought you at least still cared about me. Well, I guess I was wrong.”

“You know that’s not true, Joe. I still love you, so do Adam and Pa. We all love you same as always.   Sure, Adam was hot-tempered that day, and Pa was madder’n a hornet. They took it out on you, and they shouldn’t have. But you was askin’ for it too. Ever since your fight with the Crowleys, you been actin’ sassy and smart-mouthed…”

”Hoss, you don’t know what happened… you don’t know what it’s like… what…” Abruptly Joe broke off.

Hoss’ face tightened with pain, and he gripped his brother’s shoulder, squeezed it. “No, Joe, I don’t know what it’s like. I reckon it’s pretty bad, though. I reckon you been through some kind of hell this past month…”

“At night I can still feel ‘em on me… my face pushed into the straw…” The old horror choked Joe once more. He forced a whisper. “… the knife… the stink…” His eyes closed, he shuddered. “… damn…”

Hoss squeezed his shoulder again. “Joe, you should’a told us, you should’a let us help…”

“How could I? How could I tell you – and Pa, and Adam?”

“Joe, you’re not less of a man because of it…”

“Yes! Yes I am!... I can’t even… touch my girl without… without feeling their hands all over me…” He choked.

Taking the younger man by both shoulders, Hoss turned Joe around to face him. “Now you listen to me, Joe. You listen to me good.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Hoss!”

“Durn it, Joe, I’m talkin’ to you like you’re a man, if you’ll just shut up long enough to listen. All right, it happened! It happened, and it was a terrible thing. But it’s over now, and you got to stop thinkin’ about it, stop dwelling it – stop driving people away who love you. It’s just like poison, an’ it’ll eat you up inside if you let it.”

“I suppose Pa ordered me home.”

“No, Joe, Pa didn’t order you anywhere. You’re a grown man now, you can make your own decisions. Pa knows that.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Doggone it, Joe, doesn’t anything I’ve just said mean anything to you? Joe, you know what happened that night you left? You know what Pa did?”

“Went over to the Crowley place.”

“That’s right. And he told Mr. Crowley what happened… Mr Crowley disowned his sons, Joe. He kicked them out, right in front of us. He was shamed, he was humiliated in front of a bunch of outsiders.” Hoss searched his brother’s eyes. “But Mr. Crowley wasn’t the only man who lost something that meant a lot to him… When we came home and found you gone… Well, Pa drank himself to sleep that night.”

For the first time, Joe looked at his brother, really looked at him. Anger gave way to confusion, then pain.

Hoss was dead serious. “Joe, that man loves you more’n anything else in this world.” Fondly he gripped the back of Joe’s neck. “Now, I’m not sayin’ you have to come back home, if you really don’t want to. I’m not sayin’ that at all. But what I am sayin’ is that I think you owe him something more’n just running away in the middle of the night without even a goodbye, or I love you, or nothin’. Joe… C’mon, boy…”

“Hoss, I…” Joe’s voice caught. He managed a whisper. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Tears welled. Abruptly he threw his arms around his older brother, buried his face in the man’s shoulder. “… I’m sorry, Hoss… I…”

“I know, Joe.” Gently Hoss stroked the young man’s hair. “I know.”

  
* * * * * F I N I S * * * * *


End file.
